


Once You've Tasted It

by azephirin



Category: James Bond (Movies), Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Absent Characters, Character of Color, Crossover, F/M, Female Character of Color, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Porn Battle, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-28
Updated: 2010-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Once you've tasted it, that's all you want to drink.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Once You've Tasted It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Porn Battle X](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/25077.html) and originally posted [here](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/30726.html?thread=4240390#cmt4240390). Title and summary are lines from _Casino Royale_.

She has invitations from Kirk and McCoy, from Scotty and Gaila, from Chapel and Rand, even from Chekov and Sulu, but she turns them all down. She's going to the Mandarin Risa and getting a room to herself, and then she's going to pretend like no one on this planet knows her. They're her friends, and they want her to feel better after everything with Spock, but right now what's going to make her feel better is being away for a while, like she's a stranger, like she's just a girl named Nyota.

And so that's what she says when he asks, this man who appears next to her at the bar—she'd say he materialized, but it was far too subtle for that. It was more like, Nyota decides, he wanted to be there, and the universe rearranged itself to accommodate.

"Nyota," she tells him. Not _Uhura_, certainly not _Lieutenant Commander Uhura_. Just Nyota, like she could be anybody, like she's nobody. "And yours?"

"James," he says, which is perhaps appropriate: They share similar and startling blue eyes. But this man's a little older, with a nose that's been broken a few more times, and with drive that's leashed rather than explosive.

It occurs to Nyota that this might be a lot of fun.  


+||+||+

  
At first he undresses her like she's a delicacy, unwrapping the chiffon scarf from her neck, slowly dismantling the fastenings of her dress, until she's ready to rip through the buttons of his neat white shirt and snarl at him to hurry up. But then the dress slips off her, falling in a silvery pool at her feet, and he pulls her closer at the very same moment she grasps his collar. He'd been drinking a martini, and he still tastes like it.

She pushes him up against the wall, and he doesn't fight her; if anything, if the dim light is anything to by, he's smiling, smug, satisfied with this turn of events. It does make her want to tear the buttons off, but Nyota recognizes fine clothes when she sees them, and she can't countenance the marring of something so well-made. So she undoes them one by one, then strips off his undershirt and takes a step back, crossing her arms, raising her eyebrows. He can do the rest.

And he does, without shame or inhibition. When he's down to his boxer-briefs, the line of his cock is visible, a quite pleasant size, not completely hard yet but getting there quickly. Still in her heels, she pushes her underwear down and watches his eyes follow the movement; she has to bite back a smile. She lets them drop to the floor, then steps out of them and sits down on the bed, daintily crossing her legs.

Nyota expects him to push her onto her back; she doesn't expect him to close the distance in a step and then drop to his knees. His touch on her thighs and hips is light, but his hands themselves are rough—whatever James does for a living, it's something that supplies fine clothes and builds up calluses. His hands feel oddly good, and very different—the skin of Spock's was like hot silk.

James's plan is not particularly subtle, and she lets him part her legs and press his mouth to her knees, to the insides of her thighs, steadily and slowly enough that she's moving forward, opening to him, by the time he gets to her sex. And once he does, he takes his time, kissing her pubis and her labia, teasing her outer lips gently before he slides his tongue over her clit and makes her cry out.

She wants to sit up and watch him, keep her hands in his hair and guide him exactly where she decides he needs to go, but his tongue (she has to bite back another smile as she thinks it) is very, very talented, and when he gives her two of those blunt fingers, thrusting them in and out and letting her cunt clench around them, she collapses back onto the mattress and decides to let James do what he wants, because it's obviously working. She must be so wet, because the coarseness of those fingers feels nothing but amazing, just the right amount of friction, and when he adds another one, she gasps and arches up. They're perfect inside her, perfect, and so is his mouth, sucking on her clit, and her orgasm is as inevitable as a supernova, and as ferocious and bright.

Nyota lets go of James's hair, but that's about all the motor skills she can manage right now. She needs a minute after all that. She feels him kissing his way up her belly and ribcage, not necessarily with intent, just to get there. She opens one eye and tries not to smirk, but gives up when she sees that he's smirking, too.

"Don't you look satisfied with yourself," she says, but there's no bite in it.

"Would the lady like to register a complaint?" he replies, then bends down to circle her nipple with his tongue.

"Do that again, and no."

He laughs and does.

Stretched out on top of her, he's shorter than Spock but broader in the chest and shoulders—they'd probably weigh about the same if not for Spock's Vulcan bone structure, and James feels strangely light by comparison. She runs a hand down his back, scratching her nails lightly over his skin and the groove of his spine, and he shivers. She cups her palm around his ass and shifts position, cradling him between her thighs, and she rises to meet him just as he pushes inside her.

She's not completely back online yet, but his cock is thick and hard where she's slick and ready, and James buries his fingers in her hair as Nyota urges him deeper with one hand, covers the back of his neck with the other. His thrusts are rolling and deliberate, greedy and thorough, and as she moves with him, she feels her body begin to wake up again, emerge from the languor to demand pleasure again.

And pleasure she receives, doubly, when he reaches down to rub her clit in time to the rhythm they've set. She shudders, bites his shoulder because teeth rather than words form the language for how intense and good it is, and it turns out now that he's the one to snarl, driving harder and faster, and she gasps his name and comes again.

He follows, losing that poise and control for just the few moments of climax, and she kisses him through it, drinking the noises he makes as though they're an elixir that will give her life. His fists go tight in her hair, tight enough to pull, but then relax.

They lie there in the mess of the bed, and Nyota thinks they both seem pretty well satisfied right now, with themselves and with each other.

+||+||+

  
Later they have a bath, and she reclines against the edge of the tub to let him sink into the water and settle against her. If she were any shorter, this wouldn't work, but she's tall even without her heels, and it does. James seems mildly surprised at the arrangement, but doesn't complain, and he leans back into the welcome of her arms.

He has some scars that don't make sense—surely a regenerator could have prevented most of these, and there are two that she'd swear form entrance and exit wounds, and not from a blade or a puncture—but she decides not to ask. She's not going to tell him anything about what she does, and she decides that the reverse courtesy is owed. After all, James was alone, too, with just a first name, and Nyota is by no means the only being in this universe who might wish for a long weekend away from her life.

He makes a low, pleased sound as she smoothes soap onto his skin, and she smiles.


End file.
